


The Gift

by thetranquilteal



Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Canonical Character Death, Christmas, F/M, First Christmas, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Military, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:14:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22023904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thetranquilteal/pseuds/thetranquilteal
Summary: Jamie has spent almost every night of his deployment yearning to be with his wife and newborn child. When he is given the opportunity to be home for Brianna's first Christmas, however, he unexpectedly finds himself torn between the past, present and future.A modern-day short story inspired by @theLallybrochLibrary's Holiday Prompt: "Soldier Jamie returns from his deployment in time for Brianna’s first Christmas” submitted by @becc127.
Relationships: Claire Beauchamp/Jamie Fraser
Comments: 12
Kudos: 116





	The Gift

**Author's Note:**

> For a lot of people, Christmas is not a time of joy but of sadness, anxiety and distress. There can be an overwhelming sense of pressure to be happy and this underlying notion that expressing anything different is not only inappropriate but harmful to those around us. It leaves many - like Jamie in this AU and myself in real life - conflicted, confused and, at times, hopeless and lost. This story is dedicated not only to all service-men, -women and their families but to all of those who struggle during the holiday season. Please know that I am thinking of you and hope that you, like Jamie towards the end of this story, are blessed with a sense of inner peace and many restful nights. A x

Jamie looked down at the photograph resting in the palm of his hand. 

There sat his beautiful wife, their brand new wean resting in her arms. The stark contrast between Claire’s dark and unruly curls lightly brushing their daughter’s red tuft was only highlighted by Claire’s dark blouse and the cream coloured crochet blanket she had wrapped Brianna in. 

He chuckled to himself and raised his eyes as if to follow the sound carrying away with the wind into the mountains lit only by moonlight shining through sparse clouds.

He could still remember the moment Claire had announced her name over the phone.

“Brianna,” the mouthed to himself and smiled again. He had made a fuss at the time but it had been token, half-hearted at most, as he hadn't truly minded. How could he? After what had happened with Faith -

He shook his head quickly in an attempt to dispel the thought.

He loved Faith. _A Dhia_ , he loved her. So much so that it hurt to think of her - their first, a daughter born too early, too silent and too still - let alone speak of her out loud and, truthfully, he could only deal with so much heartache on a dark night like this, where stars were dulled by lingering clouds and death curled around them like unwelcome hot breath. 

His hold on the photograph tightened as his throat constricted and heart thumped in his chest. 

It had been a standard patrol. _Standard._ There was a scoff bubbling up from within but he hadn’t enough energy to dispel it, instead opting to let it simmer in the barely controlled but well-concealed anger that had been plaguing him for hours. _It was supposed to be standard, damn it!_ Instead, they had stumbled across an IED. 

Unmarked. Unexpected. _Deadly._

Now, instead of continuing their assignment as planned, they would be departing at first light to escort Angus' body home. 

Christ, how he wished he could speak to Claire. Touch her. Feel her. _Wrap his arms around and just hold her._

During her time as a Combat Medical Technician, she had been on two tours of her own and had seen such violent harm up close and intimately more times than he would wish upon any soul. Unlike any other Tech here in this God-forsaken desert, however, she had the ability to heal a lot more than just physical wounds. She had hands that wove stories across the skin, lips that formed words to heal the soul, and a heart more loving than anyone - including he - could ever deserve.

From the very first, when she had come and laid a hand on him to reset a dislocated shoulder, he had known - she was everything. 

Everything he knew he wanted.

Everything he hadn’t known he needed. 

Leaving her, just weeks pregnant with their second bairn, to go on this tour had been one of the hardest things he had ever done and news of a happy and healthy daughter had provided incredible relief. For a moment in time, he was devoid of the burden that had been tying him down ever since he had step foot on the aircraft and the weightlessness had left him giddy with the feeling he could do anything - achieve anything.

But all too soon that feeling had been replaced with something new. A yearning, almost.

A calling. 

On nights he managed more than an hour or two of solid sleep, he would dream of Brianna. Shifting within her swaddle, asleep in her crib. Small fingers wrapped tight around one of Claire's. Crying out blindly in hunger only to be soothed by her mother’s scent shifting closer. 

The following day the images would linger, there in the background of his mind, as they cleaned their rifles and organised equipment, long after shifts changed and there were no words to fill the silence that fell down upon them, and every time they paused to take refuge from the hot sun beating down upon them. 

Despite their continued occurrence, he resisted speaking of them out loud, too afraid that the sound might interrupt the ethereal connection that existed between the two of them. That he might be left even more alone than he already was. 

The mere thought made him grit his teeth. 

In his youth loneliness hadn’t bothered him - if anything he had welcomed it. First, it was the solitude that came with working in the Highland fields as a teenager and, then, the freedom that came with being an entry-level soldier travelling between various stations and training grounds, never staying anywhere long enough to put down roots or form any serious relationships outside of work.

Then he had met Claire. 

While, from that point onward, he had spent his days afield eagerly awaiting their next reunion, their intimate relationship had had very little impact on life in the Armed Forces. It was one that the two of them were used to and one that continued on even after they had wed. When Claire, pregnant and suffering from terrible morning sickness, was released from active duty, however, things changed. It was then he had come to truly understand what it meant to be ‘away’. Away from his wife. His family. His home. And now, another daughter. 

_One that would be there when he returned._

The thought gave him hope - a small flicker somewhere deep down beneath the bone-weary exhaustion and budding sense of desperation.

The sound of worn boots upon dusty gravel grew nearer and he turned slightly, more so due to a long instilled need to keep anything and everything within his line of vision than simple curiosity. 

He shifted again as Murtagh sat down next to him and waited. 

It wasn’t uncommon for the two to sit side by side in comfortable silence from time to time but he knew the man, both godfather and superior, had sought him out with purpose. 

"Received confirmation from Stuart - schedule remains unchanged,” Murtagh stated casually. “Dougal's putting together the last of the equipment. Thought it would be best to leave Rupert be fer now."

Jamie nodded his approval. While Rupert had not been severely injured by the blast, he remained in the medic station for a long while before making his way to Angus' cot to start packing his best friend's belongings and it had been second nature for the team to unofficially take the man off rotation, wordlessly absorbing any and all remaining jobs between them. 

"I should double-check the paperwork's been lodged," Jamie replied though he made no move to stand and Murtagh did the same, having obviously decided it was his own turn to wait. Minutes went by unchecked until he finally said aloud, “I always thought this job couldnae get any harder,” the words spontaneous and providing little to no detail for their use. 

Still, his Godfather understood.

“Tomorrow may be harder than most, aye," Murtagh brushed a hand over his bearded chin and then waved it towards Jamie’s own, "but at the end of it, you’ll be home. In time fer the bairn’s first Christmas, no less.”

"Christmas," Jamie echoed, mostly to himself, nodding his head slowly before looking back down at the photograph. “I'll be home for Christmas.”

When Murtagh put a hand on his shoulder and stood, he dipped his head in acknowledgement but continued looking a moment longer, before tucking it back into his chest pocket and rising himself. He rolled his shoulders and stretched his neck - a long practised method used to replace the battered armour he had worn for far, far too long but destined to wear a little while longer yet. 

He would be home for Christmas but until that day came, he reminded himself, he had a job to do. And a promise to keep.


End file.
